


Lucid Dreams

by CountessMillarca



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Complete, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:58:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessMillarca/pseuds/CountessMillarca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kakashi likes to keep to himself. Sakura has grown quite bold. Naruto is a bundle of energy. Sasuke wants his privacy. When Tsunade forces them to live together for a month to fix their issues, many things change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crack a Broken Bone

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. All rights belong to Kishimoto Masashi.

The same girl, the same eyes. Her voice rent the chill of the wind, scythed back and forth against the numbness of his viscera, sundered the tight knot of shock in his mind. Rin tore through him, dagger-gazed, blood-lipped, plea-laden.  

“Kakashi—”

Soft-spoken terror; Kakashi couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Sultry, suffocating tension. Lightning, the scent of ozone, deluged in layers of copper, ear-splitting. Liquid heat engulfed his arm, pulsated with an irregular, maddening rhythm.

“Kakashi.”

Sharp-voiced realization; Kakashi remained comatose, a living, breathing statue. His eyes traced the pallid features of the girl, saw her brows crease in a frown. Blood-slathered, thin lips parted, Rin regarded him with an expression he had never seen before.

“Kakashi!”

Raw-shrilled accusation; Kakashi felt every muscle in his body contract. Respiration toiled in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His arm was heavy, embedded too deep, trapped in a mélange of blood, tissue, organs, bones. Punctured. Jagged.

Panic startled him awake. Sweat clung to his skin, dripped in dips and crevices, slow rivulets, hair damp, matted against his scalp. Inhalation. Exhalation. His vision returned, focused on a vast, white shape. Feeling suffused his body. Slowly. Breath by breath. Ceiling. Bed. Home. He was home. 

_This is Hell._

* * *

Kakashi was grateful for the Hokage’s summons. Immersing himself in missions served to distract his mind, suspend his nightmares. It was nothing but a mere nostrum, he was well aware, but the fact remained. Having goals, orders, even temporary, languished his senses, anesthetized his emotions. There was no room for mistakes. Kakashi’s personal hell was born out of past mistakes. Failure was no longer an option.

“I’m taking you off active duty.”

The Godaime’s voice was sharp, the implications of her words sharper. It was the last thing Kakashi expected to hear.

“Pardon?”

His owlish stare, his disorientation, elicited a sigh from the stern woman.

“I thought of reassigning you to ANBU at first, but that’s hardly a solution.”

Tsunade’s insinuation lanced through him like spikes of ice. Of course, the Hokage knew. The slope of his back straightened, became ramrod-stiff, but Kakashi gave no other reaction, remained quiet. There were no sounds but the slow beat of his heart and the steady tempo of her voice as she resumed speech.

“You are agitated, spaced out, fatigued. You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

It was more statement and less question. Kakashi couldn’t dispute her, didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the truth. All he could do was to give her another truth.

“I have not failed a mission.”

The barest frown and pursed lips greeted his proclamation, yet it was a sign of exasperation, not censure.

“I’m not questioning your abilities. I’m…worried…about _you_.”

Kakashi’s throat clogged with a viscous substance. Such discussions were uncommon between them, and though he understood her reasons, he didn’t like the softness of her mien, the lines of sympathy on her features.

“I’m fine.”

Tsunade’s exhalation at his monotone made his muscles tauten more. The sigh was feminine, held placating qualities, as if she dealt with a child, not a battle-hardened shinobi.

“I’m not going to assume to know what’s going on with you, but it’s clear you can’t get over it on your own. After the last war…you changed. I thought Sasuke’s return would be a good thing for everyone in your old team, the missing link, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Naruto and Sakura is one thing, but you and Sasuke are different. Sasuke’s issues are, glaringly, obvious—but yours…”

Tsunade took a small pause, caught his eye for a fragment of a second. Intense. Telling. Kakashi could surmise there were many things she wanted to add, but refrained for some reason. They went unspoken but not unheard.

“I haven’t given you many missions lately on purpose. Sasuke is on house confinement anyway, until he’s reintegrated in the village. It’s a good time to take a break.”

She needn’t have explained. It all made perfect sense. Kakashi had no doubt of where she was going with this—and he didn’t like it one bit. Her chuckle didn’t make things better either.

“Naruto and Sakura won’t leave him alone for a goddamn minute either. They might as well move in with him. Why don’t you stay with them…for a month? The Uchiha compound sure has space.”

He gave her a nod, a mixture of resignation and ire. “Is that all?” Kakashi didn’t trust himself to say more.

Tsunade’s lids lowered, her elbows resting on the desk, woven fingers supporting her chin. When she raised her lashes, Kakashi saw himself reflected in mirrors of cool amber, knew her next words would be much worse than anything she had said so far.

“I would like for you to get counseling.”

Jaw hard-set, tensile, he shook his head. “No.”

A murmur touched his ears. “Kakashi—”

“With all due respect, Hokage-sama, I don’t need it. Unless it’s an order…”

Kakashi didn’t need to finish his sentence. His meaning was clear to both of them.

“I won’t force you, but I urge you to reconsider this.”

Tsunade’s chin burrowed in her laced hands, but her smile was rueful, filled with regret. It lasted no longer than a split second. When she looked at him again, her Hokage façade was etched on her face. Firm. Resolute.

“I’ve already talked to the brats. They’re actually moving in as we speak. Why don’t you join them?”

Kakashi’s brow quirked, taken by slight surprise. “Sasuke agreed to this?”

A curling of lips, her mouth parted for a humorless chuckle. “Of course not. If glares could kill, I’d be six feet under already.”

Kakashi couldn’t miss the irony of the situation, felt compelled to make a point of it—and he did. “Considering that Sasuke’s _can_ …”

Tsunade didn’t appreciate his sarcasm. Just as well. Kakashi didn’t appreciate her officiousness either.

“I expect weekly reports.”

Confusion pierced through his discontent. “So this _is_ a mission?”

Rays of gold scintillated in her eyes. Her tone was mellow, warm, when Tsunade gave voice to what he already guessed.

“You know it isn’t, but you need the excuse, don’t you?”


	2. Who Is It That Wears a Mask?

Kakashi wasn’t surprised to see Sakura waiting before the Uchiha’s gates when he arrived an hour later. What struck him was the awareness that came with it. The scent of woman, of floral oils smeared on skin, inundated the summer wind. She smelled of cherry blossoms and pomegranate seeds. Finespun intoxication. A cascade of rouge waves swayed, spine curved, slender. Kakashi had never realized females experienced a rapid spurt of growth in contrast to the slow maturation of males, yet the proof stood before his eyes. Binding. Undeniable. A flux of sensations surged within him. He felt proud for the strong, capable woman she had ripened into—and strangely…old.

 _They grow up fast…_ too _fast…_

The slant of her neck, that shadow of a half-smile, told him she was aware of his presence even before she turned to face him.

“Yo.” He gave her his usual greeting, didn’t bother with trivial questions. The fact that she hadn’t yet entered the estate spoke for itself—she was waiting for Naruto.

Sakura, too, forewent asinine inquiries. “Should I account for four people during meals?”

Kakashi laughed, the sound natural, infected by the mellowness of her poise. “You catch on quickly, Sakura.”

Her smile morphed into a grin, half-wry, half-playful. “I’ve known my shishō for a long time.”

A blur of blond hair and blue eyes breezed past them, halting their conversation. As always, Naruto made a flashy entrance. A backpack of absurdly large proportions was strapped on his back. Kakashi shook his head; his throat vibrated with a dry chuckle.

Naruto blinked once, caught unaware by Kakashi’s presence. “What’s going on?”

Explaining the situation would be a rather mundane and tiresome procedure, was Kakashi’s first thought. A quick glance at Sakura’s creased brows revealed she had inferred his reasoning. Before she could open her mouth to warn him against tasking her with informing Naruto of this recent development—and subsequently suffering his excitement—Kakashi threw her a wink. With a _poof_ of smoke, he disappeared in the midst of a feminine huff. Kakashi held no doubt that he would pay for this in some form later, but it wasn’t enough to lessen his amusement at her current predicament.

 _They grow up fast…but not_ too _much…_

* * *

Sasuke’s chakra pulsed with subtle fluctuations, pure, electrified, informing Kakashi of his location. It was but a slice of power, leashed, focused on training. Kakashi found him inside the dōjō, dark pants his only garment, honing his Raiton. Unlike Sakura’s telltale signs, Kakashi knew Sasuke had sensed his presence despite the lack of reaction on his part.

Sasuke’s voice was low, even, when he acknowledged him without ceasing practice. “Even you, Kakashi?”

Kakashi slung his backpack off his shoulders to lay it on the tatami floor. “Hokage’s orders.”

“I see.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize Kakashi would much rather spar than talk, much less Sasuke. Kakashi’s muscles bulged, tensed. Aggression coiled in his abdomen. Sasuke released his lightning jutsu, assumed a stance for taijutsu, the motion fluid, buoyant.

“There are plenty of rooms,” was all he said.

Kakashi gave him a curt nod before he lunged forward.

* * *

Before the gates of the Uchiha estate an argument was taking place.

“You’re unfair, Sakura-chan! Kakashi-sensei and Sasuke are in there sparring!”

There was such exasperation and longing in Naruto’s exclamation that Sakura almost pitied him, but she stood her ground. Inflexible. Unrelenting. They needed to unpack, shop for house provisions, and she refused to play the part of the housewife simply because they thought a woman would fit the description better. Naruto would help, if only for being unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kakashi had made a devious escape, surmising what was in store for him if he remained—most probably—but Naruto wasn’t that lucky.

“You can join them once we get settled in. Kakashi only brought a small backpack, but what is that huge thing on your back? It won’t even fit through the door! Did you bring your whole household with you?”

She fixed him with a hard stare, demanding both compliance and answers. Naruto shuffled in discomfort, fiddling with the short hair on the nape of his neck.

“Well, we’re going to be staying, so…” He trailed off, unwilling to say more for an inexplicable reason.

“For a month…” Sakura paused. Something unpleasant wove its tendrils around her mind. “Don’t tell me—”

Her countenance softened, all traces of castigation retreating in favor of compassion. Sakura couldn’t help but exhale a soft sigh at the complications of what Naruto implied. Her friend had no intention of treating this as a temporary arrangement from the very beginning.

“Naruto…you know he likes his privacy. He won’t stand for—”

“Nobody wants to be alone, Sakura-chan.”

The intensity of his eyes was sizzling. Sakura licked her lips, withstood the heat of his gaze, sapphires aflame, too fierce, piercing.

“It wasn’t his choice…” Naruto’s voice brimmed with something fragile, concealed under layers of conviction. Teeth bit into Sakura’s lower lip, worried the reddened flesh. She didn’t want to say this, but Naruto left her with no other choice.

“But it is now.”

The smile he gifted her with melted her insides, sealed her voice. It was terribly tender, near painful to look at, full of things she couldn’t hope to understand. There was a bond between Sasuke and Naruto, Sakura had always known, yet only now did she start to comprehend what it truly meant. Her head bowed, whether in apology or shame, even she couldn’t tell. Sakura could never win against Naruto when he was being like that.

* * *

Lunch was proceeding quietly. Even Naruto seemed reluctant to be his usual, lively self. The reason for that was arranged in bowls before them, disguised as gyūdon. Kakashi had refrained from saying anything until his third bite, but he couldn’t postpone it any longer. Clearing his throat, he was the first—brave enough—to broach the delicate matter.

“What did you put in there, Sakura? Besides…food.”

Even calling it _food_ was a relative term. Kakashi was certain beef had never held that kind of taste before—no matter how it was cooked or spiced.

Sakura appeared startled by his question, as if she was used to tasting such abhorrent cooking—which she probably was. Given the fact that she had moved out of her parents’ home once the war had ended, and counting her aversion to eating out, she probably only ever ate her home-cooked meals.

“Supplements, vitamins, health boo—” Pause. Green eyes narrowing. “Why?”

Suspicion was thick in the air between them, twined with the stirrings of a volatile mood. The quiet that had prevailed during their meal shattered—but not the awkwardness of the situation.

“It’s…not bad, Sakura-chan!” Naruto barked a shaky laughter, careful with his choice of words.

Sasuke didn’t heed his example. “It’s edible, but the taste is another matter.”

At least, he kept his observations to the point, devoid of scathing undertones. All blood drained from Naruto’s face. His eyes flitted from Sasuke’s stoic features to Sakura’s irritated expression, back and forth, unsure of how he should handle this but needing to mediate the tension.

“You don’t have to say it like that!”

Silence. Strained. Naruto shot Kakashi with a glare, conveying this was his fault in the first place, conversely relaying he should be the one to fix it.

Kakashi put down his chopsticks, gathered everyone’s attention with the simple action. “We’ll take turns in cooking.”

If he wasn’t staring at Sakura to judge her reactions in case he needed to try a different, more placating approach, Kakashi would have missed the gleam of victory in her eyes. A chuckle buzzed in his larynx. Realization was like a hard blow to his—already aggravated—stomach. It appeared this slip of a woman had fooled them in the shrewdest of ways in order to achieve her purpose. _Clever, Sakura…_

“Heh.” Sasuke’s posture didn’t change much, but the corners of his lips lifted in something less than a smirk. His wordless grunt betrayed hints of amusement.

The audacious woman winked at both of them, aware she had been caught, taking greater pleasure from that fact.

Only Naruto seemed to be oblivious of their silent exchange. “You can cook, Kakashi-sensei?”

Kakashi quirked a brow, but humored him anyway. “I live alone, Naruto.”

“So do I!”

The gaiety that followed Naruto’s puzzlement was unanimous, warmed the atmosphere.

“Baka.”

“Hn.”

“Oi!”


	3. All the Noise and Hot-Crossed Fangs

A week passed. Sleepless nights and ceaseless days. Despite the illusion of unity, the superficial moments of camaraderie, Kakashi couldn’t deny the truth. They simply could not function as a team. It came as no surprise. Even in the past, they had encountered the same problem, albeit in smaller doses. The lack of missions, the idleness of their cohabitation, only made this problem more prominent, easy to pinpoint. It was rather laughable that the connecting link between them, the one to feed this pretense, was Naruto.

Kakashi was well aware that his nightly malaise was shared by one other person in the compound, but it wasn’t exactly a bond he wished to strengthen. Sasuke wouldn’t appreciate Kakashi meddling in his affairs either. Both men masked what was painfully obvious to see from their teammates and themselves. They didn’t fool anyone, much less Naruto and Sakura. Naruto seemed to possess an inherent ability to just know these things and Sakura relied on feminine intuition to fill the holes. The fact that they never voiced their thoughts was an unspoken rule, but Kakashi wondered how long it would take for this brewing silence to rupture…and what would happen when that time came.

* * *

“What kind of report is this, Kakashi?”

The sound of flesh slamming on wood was deafening in the otherwise quiet office, overpowered only by the Hokage’s seething stare.

“An accurate one.”

Kakashi’s muscles didn’t even twitch; his voice never faltered. If possible, his posture became slack, careless, despite the constriction of nerves in his body, the taste of acridness on his tongue. The promise of wrath deluged the space between them for the merest of moments—before it unraveled with a suffering sigh.

“I don’t need to know that Sakura’s cooking tastes like antiseptic or that Naruto sleep talks and molests his pillow or that Sasuke got a tan since he trains half-naked!”

A half-smirk threatened to break out beneath his mask, but he suppressed it, retained that impassable veneer. It wasn’t often that Kakashi dared to test Tsunade’s patience—he knew better than that—but he couldn’t smother the desire to rattle her on this occasion.

“You asked for a report on daily activities, not an evaluation.”

“It was a given!” An attrition of teeth, waspish vexation, she clicked her tongue. Tsunade’s anger ebbed much the same way it had begun—in an instant. “You’re being childish.”

A sake cup appeared out of nowhere, the motion too fast for even Kakashi’s trained eye to follow. Tsunade was having a drink before he could even comprehend how that had come about.

“Fine. I’m asking you now.”

Deciding that aggravating her further would be daft, Kakashi replied with as much professionalism as he could muster. “Sasuke is perfectly able to carry out missions—everyone is.”

Succinct, sure-spoken, it wasn’t a lie but not the truth either. Tsunade seemed to know that either way.

“What about teamwork, Kakashi? You don’t mention _one_ instance when all four of you did something together…besides eating!”

They measured each other in deceptive calmness.

“You want the truth?”

Tsunade raised her cup and downed its contents in one gulp, tacit command for him to continue.

“I like to keep to myself. Sasuke is pretty much the same. Naruto is a bundle of energy and meddles everywhere. Sakura is very careful around Sasuke and very open with Naruto.”

The calculative glint in her eyes warned Kakashi of what was coming.

“What about you? How’s she treating you?”

Women could be cunning in their machinations, but neither Tsunade nor Sakura possessed the fine qualities of subterfuge. It hadn’t been difficult for Kakashi to surmise what underlay the Hokage’s suggestion when he refused her offer the first time around.

“Did you ask her to be my counselor?”

Her lips puckered in dismay. They both knew it would be useless to deny it once he brought the matter to attention.

“So you did.”

“You need help. Sakura’s a medic,” was all she said. Nothing more, nothing less.

“She doesn’t know how to approach me and it’s making her nervous. She’s acting the same with Sasuke. You burdened her unnecessarily.”

Kakashi didn’t know which of his words triggered her next reaction, but her features lost their serrated cusp, became tender. If he had to be honest, he much preferred the unyielding countenance she wore before. Dealing with criticism was much easier than dealing with sympathy.

“She’s known you for years, Kakashi. I thought that a person you’re familiar with would be more comfortable…for both you and Sasuke.”

“I don’t need to…talk.”

His minute pause, all somatic signs of hesitancy, didn’t go unnoticed. They fueled her brashness, bolstered her daring to take it a step further, talk of things that should remain unsaid.

“I know you’re feeling guilty for Sasuke’s state, but it’s not your fault. What happened to Obito and Rin isn’t your fault either.”

Kakashi’s throat felt unbearably dry. His report was delivered; her rant had ended. There was no reason to linger. It was imperative that he leave. “Are we done?”

Tsunade must have come to the same conclusion—she had pressed too far this time. “Don’t write ridiculous reports in the future.”

“Understood.” A habitual nod, and he was walking away.

“Kakashi—”

He stopped, but didn’t turn to face her. The way she called his name was almost mocking, if a bit condescending. Something in her voice foreboded caution, put him on edge.

“If you think Sakura is keeping her distance because she’s… _nervous,_ then you’re losing your touch.”

It was a well-targeted taunt, small revenge for his earlier misconduct. The veil lifted, revealed what he had already guessed, but refused to acknowledge. Well-trained shinobi operated under a strict set of rules when assigned a mission. The first step was _observation_. It wouldn’t be long before Sakura took action—and Kakashi couldn’t help but be a little apprehensive of what she would do.

* * *

The last dark of the night overlaid tendrils of light, struggling to break through, to announce the dawning of another day. Everything was quiet in the Uchiha estate, perhaps too quiet…for a mere human’s perception. Sakura could hear the murmur of Naruto’s nonsensical blather in his sleep and a succession of soft thumping sounds outside. Sasuke was using the outdoors training grounds. It went beyond shadow of doubt that Sasuke wasn’t doing target practice for the mere sake of it. The Uchiha had perfect accuracy since age twelve. If Sakura had to take a guess, it was more for sentimentality’s sake. Memories dwelt in this house, in its grounds, in its very foundations.

Kakashi’s presence could be found nowhere in the confines of the estate—which made this an opportune moment. Donning an outfit fit for sparring, Sakura exited the house, crossed over to the lair of avoidance. Sakura might have accepted Sasuke back in her life, Sasuke might have tolerated Sakura’s addition in his home, but they barely communicated on a personal level. Their careful prevarication, this charade of amity, needed to end. She could neither help him nor forgive him if Sasuke wouldn’t let her, and if she had to force him…then so be it.

The sound of metal hitting wood stopped long before Sakura entered Sasuke’s line of vision. If he was surprised by her unwanted intrusion, Sasuke hid it pretty well, but Sakura knew better than to take his expressions—or lack thereof—as they came.

“Morning.” She gave him a haughty glare then laughed. Her intentions couldn’t be feigned even if she tried to conceal them. Sakura did no such thing, anyhow. “I’m a kunoichi, you know.”

The bait she threw at him was too brazen, too tempting to be ignored—and Sasuke never shied away from challenges.

“I tried to kill you.”

It was the most insipid assertion he could have made. Sakura had to give him credit for that. He was never one for circumvention either.

“I remember.” She cocked her head to the side, stared at him, undaunted, as if she was sizing him up. A smirk played on her lips, made her next words all the saucier, lighter than they should be. “So did I.”

He sighed—a crack in the shield of Aegis. His head fell back, the cords of his neck stretching, twisting. The fact that his torso was devoid of clothing assisted in her perusal. A rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. Sleek, lithe muscle. Raw, tethered bellicosity. Sakura chuckled. He was one step from either snapping or surrendering.

“What do you want, Sakura?” Sasuke took a slow step, approached her of his own will. His pupils were dilated, merged with the black of his irises. Anger bled into the white of his sclera, fire and threat.

“Honestly?” Her smirk burgeoned with amusement as he nodded. Sasuke was paying her more attention in the last few minutes than he had for the past decade. Sakura wanted to provoke him more, push him further, if only for satisfaction’s sake. “To beat the living crap out of you. Just once. Then we’ll call it even. Isn’t that how you guys do it?”

Sakura could tell by the change of his demeanor, the tightening of his features, that she had caught him off guard. Sasuke cast down an abysmal stare, half-lidded warning; he tried to intimidate her by sheer willpower, to make her cease this precarious game.

“I won’t hold back.”

Her chin furrowed with determination; her eyes twinkled with mischief. Sakura gave him the opposite answer from the one he sought to extort out of her.

“You better not.”

Hostility seeped out from his skin, swapped places with concentration. Sasuke leapt back, agile, confident. At least, he was taking her seriously, Sakura thought, but there was still something that bothered her. 

“But first…” Teeth sank into her bottom lip. Her eyes traced the contours of his body. Slow. Deliberate. “Put a shirt on.”

The beginnings of a frown touched his forehead, but he remained unmoving.

Sakura exhaled a long sigh, tried a different approach. “Either _you_ put a shirt on or _I_ take mine off. Your choice.”

His half-formed frown morphed into slight shock coiled with suspicion. “You wouldn’t—”

“Dare?” A nasal sound escaped her, something between a snort and a chuckle.

His pose froze, his stare intent, assessing, as if he was seeing her for the first time.

That smirk found its way on the curve of her lips once more. “You’re not the only one who’s changed, Sasuke,” she said simply.

Her reply allayed his wariness, but he still made no motion to cover himself.

Sakura was left with no other choice but to resort to underhanded methods. “Unless you want to explain to Naruto why we’re getting it on in the dirt half-naked, I suggest you put your shirt on.”

This seemed to amuse him, if nothing else. Sasuke regarded her closely, his lips curled in a smirk, but it wasn’t really a smirk. “Aren’t you a medic? Half-naked men shouldn’t affect you.” Taunt slathered on words, blatant provocation.

Sakura would have huffed, would have refused to deign the belittling question with a retort, if it was anyone else but Sasuke. As it was, there were some things that needed to be said. “I’m not a little girl with a stupid crush anymore, Sasuke. As you said, I’m an accomplished medic nin and a full-fledged _woman_.” She intoned the last word, leveled him with a meaningful stare.

Sasuke’s lips split further apart; that smirk took on genuine colors. It appeared he was finally getting her point, but Sakura had no qualms over stating facts. If he wished to hear the medical assessment of their situation, she would damn well tell him in detail.

“There’s something called hormones. You don’t need me to tell you what adrenaline mixed with endorphins when an attractive specimen is in close proximity causes, do you?”

Her eyes eclipsed with things that needn’t be mentioned, full of saccharine toxicity, even as she smiled at him. Sakura didn’t outright say it but she didn’t have to. It was Sasuke who did.

“Sexual desire.”

His lids ascended; his eyes blazed. Blood-heat. Too much. Too soon. It lasted no longer than a mere fragment of a second—but it was _more than_ _enough_. Sakura knew the symptoms all too well not to recognize them. Her smile narrowed, adopted feral qualities—a slash of smirk.

“You just _had_ to say it…”

She laughed, the sound cool and sharp. Fists clenched, knuckles snapping, menacing. Lissome limbs flexing, Sakura took the initiative, disregarding the fact he hadn’t put that damn shirt on.

* * *

The last rays of the sun had long since died, duskiness cladding the sky in hues of the darkest mauve, when Kakashi returned to the Uchiha estate after a prolonged visit to the memorial stone. He made a mental note to repair the decimated training grounds with a Doton upon discovery then dragged his body toward the room he had chosen for the duration of his stay. The destruction he met outside came as no surprise—Naruto and Sakura had probably sparred again—but the small cylinder and the note that awaited him on his nightstand did. They were inconspicuous but their content was far from it.

_It’s sleeping powder. I have enclosed dosage instructions. Please don’t overuse this since it carries the risk of addiction._

_Sakura_

Kakashi read it twice just to be certain he hadn’t misinterpreted the meaning. He rubbed his lids, more tired than ever, the desire to smash the bottle to pieces and curse his superior overwhelming in his mind.

“Godaime…”

* * *

The same girl, the same eyes—but _not the same dream_. Rin didn’t whisper, speak, or scream his name. She was silent, cold, limp in his arms, and Kakashi—he held a thread of awareness, a scintilla of feeling, but he knew this wasn’t his body. He was but a mere spectator, witnessing events through someone else’s eye. Blood, too much, too warm, too thick…slipping through his pores, bathing him in madness and the tangy scent of revenge.

_This is Hell._

He came awake thrashing with violent, jerky motions, tangled in sheets, slick with perspiration and…tears. His left eye wept, in spite of his control. His lungs couldn’t process air.

_Air…I need air…_

One furtive glance at the untouched cylinder, and he left.

* * *

Sasuke was lying against the rooftop, aloof, lost in his musings, but not so distracted as to not notice Kakashi’s approach.

Kakashi offered him as much of an apology as he could with a weary voice. “There are plenty of rooms but only one roof.”

A grunt came from Sasuke, his sole acknowledgement, but Kakashi couldn’t really blame him for his shortness. An identical cylinder to the one sitting innocently on his nightstand was beside Sasuke’s thigh. Kakashi didn’t even have to spare a thought to make the connection. “Sakura?”

Sasuke’s reply wasn’t immediate, and when he did answer, it wasn’t what Kakashi had asked.

“She’s…changed.” Voice strangely charged, filled with something inconceivable, Sasuke exhaled a breath. Sibilant, heavy.

The act was lightning fast, too quick for Kakashi to infer what it meant, but he was certain of one thing at least. There was more to this than Sasuke let on. His mind revisited the mayhem at the training grounds, realizing who the real perpetrators were. “You say this as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe it is…”

Kakashi couldn’t tell if his random observation was the cause, but one emotion was transparent in Sasuke’s low nuance. Displeasure. At what exactly Sasuke felt this strongly against though, Kakashi had no idea.

The cylinder gripped in his fist, Sasuke rose then. He turned to leave with slow, measured steps, but stopped when he was beside Kakashi, gazed down at him. Crimson flashed in the dark, like melted blood, like hellfire.

“She’s a woman, Kakashi.” Sasuke’s last words were shackled tight, bled visceral urges, something wild, trapped, clawing to come out.

Kakashi _knew_ then. He had always known this would happen soon, but like everything else when it came to his team, it happened _too_ soon. This was exactly the reason adult shinobi never shared a house unless it was under dire circumstances, much less people who shared complicated history. What in the hell was the Godaime thinking? Sasuke had laid bare the intricacies of their equivocal interaction and its dangers. Things were bound to get worse the more time they spent under the same roof. Kakashi was no fool. Sasuke was not as immune. Naruto was not as naïve. Sakura had a mission—and she cared for neither means nor boundaries.  


	4. In This Matrix, It's Plain to See

Kakashi had barely slept for more than two hours. The cylinder with the sleeping powder sat on his nightstand, as pristine and harmless and full as when he had received it. The fact that breakfast had been more awkward than usual hadn’t boded well for his frazzled nerves either. Tensile reservation—not there before—suffused the atmosphere, held together by thin strings, liable to break at any given time. It wasn’t strange, but it was rather inconvenient, an obstacle that needed to be surpassed. The Hokage would never be convinced they were ready to take on missions as a team again otherwise.

Sasuke’s imprisonment had lasted a year, his house arrest another. Interrogations, isolation, enmity, mistrust—Sasuke had been subjected to a multitude of trials and tribulations. If he hadn’t been a people’s person before then he was even less of one now. Relearning how to be among human beings, how to work as a functional member of a team, would be another hardship for the Uchiha.

Naruto had gone through both physical and mental stress during that period as well. There had been a time when he simply refused to leave the Hokage’s tower or take on missions unless they released Sasuke in a desperate attempt to enforce his opposition. Tsunade had tried to explain the severity of the situation, the weight of Sasuke’s position as an international criminal. The matter did _not_ lie solely in her hands; other villages had a say in the Uchiha’s fate. In the end, much to Kakashi’s surprise, it had been Sasuke’s words that had brought upon Naruto’s acquiescence.

 _“Take care of Itachi’s grave,”_ was all Sasuke had said, and Naruto had understood. Kakashi had offered to undertake the task with Naruto since he spent half of his time in the cemetery either way, yet the real surprise had been finding out that Sakura had already been doing that on her own since she had learned the truth. Itachi’s circumstances were known only by a select few within the village—Kakashi, Naruto, Sakura, Tsunade, and Yamato. It wouldn’t have made a difference to Sasuke’s indictment, for his crimes were his own, and Sasuke preferred to keep Itachi’s secret, respecting his brother’s wishes.

In few words, Team Seven was a cluster of complications and snares…and the duty of mending the crippled bonds, gauzing the festered wounds, fell to Kakashi as the de-facto leader of his team. It didn’t matter that his students had surpassed him in prowess ages ago, or that his emotional state was no better than theirs, or that he didn’t want to become more deeply involved than he already was. Kakashi would always be the leader, the more mature, the most experienced…for this kind of thing.

* * *

The sun was warm but not too warm. It was late June, mid-morning, ten days after their forced cohabitation, when Kakashi gathered them in the forest close to the Uchiha compound for a mock-mission.

“I thought we could do some teamwork training. We’ll split into two groups. Sakura’s with me, Sasuke‘s with Naruto. Pakkun has hidden himself in the woods. Whoever catches him first will be exempt from chores for a week. No ninjutsu, genjutsu, or taijutsu—which means no Kage Bunshin, no Sharingan, no Kairiki.”

His words were met with three different kinds of silence. Sakura appeared to be ruminating on his conditions. Sasuke seemed disinterested, if a bit skeptical. Naruto was grinning as if he knew something they didn’t.

“Naruto.” Kakashi’s voice lowered an octave. “No Senjutsu either.”

The blond shinobi flashed him a sheepish smile, then his ribcage earned an elbow hit from Sakura.

Impervious to her teammate’s spasmodic coughing, the medic nin turned on Kakashi with knitted brows, pensive. “But that means…your own teammate is a rival, too.”

“Very good, Sakura.” His lid descended, shaped into a crescent. It pleased Kakashi, her keen assessment, the resolve that spread in their group after his nod, despite Naruto’s perplexed shout.

“How’s that teamwork training then?”

Sasuke’s solemn stare didn’t register in anyone’s perception, was reserved for Kakashi’s cognition. Sakura might have inferred the rules of their game, but Sasuke knew its true purpose. Just as well. It made things a lot easier for Kakashi. He chuckled, his only reply to Naruto.

“On the count of three, we begin.” The air cloyed with the zesty scent of competition, eyes glued on Kakashi’s rising fingers, muscles flexing and unflexing. “One, two…three!”

* * *

Kakashi wasn’t trying too hard to locate his ninken. Sakura was doing a fine job of that on her own. His intentions—when he came up with this challenge—were of a more personal nature, but now that opportunity presented itself before him, he discovered that he felt rather self-conscious. His lips thinned, tightened with half-disrelish, half-resignation. It was a simple matter, yet voicing it would give Sakura power over him, allow her to be open with her schemes. Kakashi didn’t know what would be worse—keeping quiet or laying it bare—but one thing was certain. Sakura needed to know she couldn’t play him like a little boy. The tactics she had used on Sasuke were highly inappropriate in their case, ill-advised. He’d rather her know this fact before she even contemplated trying anything of the sort with him.

“I know the Godaime asked you to do something, Sakura.”

She neither denied nor confirmed it. A flutter of curled lashes was all that she gave him. Kakashi had to commend her for keeping such a firm rein on her reactions.

“She didn’t order me…”

Her murmur was too low, heavy with things he recognized but cared not for. No…that was a lie. Kakashi _didn’t_ _want to_ _care_ for what she was about to say, stilled himself to reject whatever it would be, but the words that spilled out her throat slashed through him, sharp-edged yet gentle-curved.

“I love you, Kakashi.”

Kakashi watched her closely, carefully. No flushed features, no shortness of breath, nothing to indicate an intimate meaning, a clandestine hue in her words. Only a glow of jade, warmth, the desire to touch him on an intrinsic level…and underlying fear. Sakura was disquieted, he realized—that she had said the wrong thing, had been too forward, too bold in her attempts to form some sort of connection with him. Kakashi recalled a past occasion when he had heard her utter the same sentence to Naruto. Sasuke must have been the recipient of such a declaration as well at some point in time. Despite context, situation, or color, the phrase enclosed one quality. It was _real_.

A sigh struggled in his throat. Whoever claimed women were the weaker sex must have been a chauvinist. They held a different kind of strength, one that men couldn’t compete with. Kakashi had no qualms over expressing factual truths. _I’ll protect you. I’m your friend. I won’t let you die._ He didn’t need to voice the hidden connotations, or more accurately, he couldn’t. And yet…how facile it was for Sakura to admit what neither Kakashi nor Sasuke, perhaps not even Naruto, ever would. If he had to be honest, Kakashi felt…humbled—and a little defeated.

“I know.”

There was nothing more he could have said. Sakura, too, wasn’t expecting otherwise. Fingers clasped his shoulder, firm-gripped but soft-placed, stroking his skin above layers of fabric, many questions in her touch.

Sakura only asked one of them. “Did you take the sleeping powder?”

“Sasuke did.”

It wasn’t the answer she would have liked to hear, but she was expecting this, too. A smile brushed her lips, but it was complex, full of those things he didn’t want to care for, the green of her irises matted with prescience, ache-filled.

“That’s…good.”

* * *

Naruto couldn’t understand why Sasuke hadn’t taken off already or even suggested to search for Pakkun separately, more so considering Sakura’s deduction. Not that he was complaining, but it was odd, unlike Sasuke’s usual dissociation and penchant to ostracize himself from everyone except Kakashi. Even though Naruto was loath to admit the fact, he was aware of it. Only their former sensei could carry a somewhat meaningful conversation with Sasuke. Hence, he allowed Sasuke to lead.

Only when he couldn’t handle the silence and its implications any longer did he speak. Something casual, safe. “How’s this teamwork training?”

It appeared Sasuke had enough of silence as well—he plunged straight into the heart of the matter with the delicacy of broken glass. “Kakashi wanted to give us some time alone and the chance to interact with people we usually avoid.”

Sasuke’s logic, his choice to remain near Naruto, made perfect sense now. The Uchiha would rather they deal with whatever this was before Kakashi took more drastic measures…measures neither of them would like.

“I got that…” Naruto was well aware, yes…he couldn’t not be.

“You want to live with me.”

That, however, Naruto didn’t expect. Another truth, another implausible wish. He should have guessed Sasuke would know—he _always knew_.

“I…well, yeah…” It was useless to deny this, but more useless to hope for it. Still, Naruto smiled at him, all stretched cheeks and white teeth and nervousness.

“You’re not Itachi.” Sasuke’s voice might not have held any malice, his eyes filled with mostly weariness, dark, warded, but his remark flowed like arctic water, like ice spikes tearing holes into Naruto’s flesh, numbing the pain as they slid deeper.

Naruto’s smile, too, was frozen on his face as he replied. “I know that!”

The truth was like sharp-tipped teeth gnawing on his flesh, hurt more than that even. Naruto might have sparred with Sasuke, pestered him on a daily basis, glued himself on him, but the reality was that Sasuke would never have another brother, could never see someone in that way again. The Uchiha barely spoke more than a word or two when they were together…never unless Naruto coaxed him, never something more than trivialities. It didn’t matter much, in the end. Words left unspoken, hanging between them, were plenty—and _those did matter_. Naruto would simply have to wait for the moment when they could be spoken…no matter how long it took.


	5. Flick Your Mind and Mine so Briefly

Two weeks into their new living arrangements, Kakashi could finally write a report that showed progress. Their training sessions included all four members of their team—for a change. Even better, their coordination and battle patterns were flawless, their minds linked. As far as mission-related matters went, Team Seven was fully operational. Then again, that was the easy part. Kakashi expected such results from the beginning. Complications arose when it came to individual evaluations. Tsunade would like to read an in-depth analysis on everyone’s mental state, and Kakashi couldn’t very well write the truth.

 _Naruto pines over Sasuke’s attention. Sasuke rejects simple acts of kindness. Sakura thrives on cyclothymia. My picture should be in the dictionary under_ insomnia _._

No, Kakashi most definitely couldn’t rely on honesty. But he couldn’t lie either. What he could do was try to get some sleep. Despite knowing the futility of the act, he lay on his futon, stared at the ceiling for a few minutes.

A quick glance at his nightstand, and he was tempted to grab the bottle, gulp down its narcotic contents, and damn it all to hell. If he didn’t have prior, unpleasant experiences with sleeping remedies, he would have used it from the start. Kakashi simply loathed drugs of that nature. They would knock him out for a few hours, but there were serious consequences to take into consideration. They made him sluggish, dulled his senses, trapped him in the worst kind of stasis—invisible shackles, holding him down, strangling him. Sleeping drugs made him feel… _helpless_ —and that was worse than even his nightmares.

The shōji doors of his room slid open then, near soundless intrusion. Kakashi knew to whom the quiet footsteps belonged even before Sakura came into his vision, dressed in her nightwear. White camisole, black shorts, nothing more. It wasn’t her attire that disgruntled Kakashi but the combination of her attire and her visit and her intentions.

Gazing down at him, voice flat, if a bit chiding, she wasted no time with greetings or excuses. “You didn’t take the sleeping powder.”

Kakashi didn’t need his unveiled Sharingan to read her inner thoughts—they were written on her features with small letters, lacquered with a matte shade of worriment. _I don’t know what else to do._

A sigh tangled with the words forming on his vocal cords. It appeared to have become his signature response when he was dealing with her lately. “You’ve grown quite bold.”

Sakura laughed, came closer, knelt on the futon. “You mean desperate.”

There were not many things he could do to avoid this situation save for physically removing her…and that would cause a ruckus, uncalled destruction. The flecks of resolve in her eyes, the unbent curve of her spine, attested to that.

There weren’t many things to say either. Just one. “This is a bad idea.”

She stared at him, cognizant of his meaning. Her eyes gleamed in the dark, like raw metal, and she gave a small nod. Once more, Kakashi sighed. At least, Sakura wasn’t denying that her unconventional methods carried dire risks. The futon dipped as she lowered herself beside him, not close but not far either.

“Just sleep, Kakashi,” was the last thing she said.

* * *

The same girl, the same eyes. Kakashi felt his chest constrict, his lungs expand, tried to draw breath in. Futile.

“Kakashi—”

 _No._ No _. Don’t say my name. Don’t look at me—_

Kakashi couldn’t think, couldn’t form words. Sensations overlapped, different, unprecedented. Warmth melted the chill of his bones, heavy, dominant. Half-asleep, half-awake, he couldn’t tell where the nightmare ended and where reality began. He could only _feel_ …thighs straddling his waist, naked and burning, a woman’s thighs. It heightened his disorientation, spawned a feeling of claustrophobia. Kakashi gripped her hips, nails sinking into smooth skin, on high alert, driven by instincts, intent on subduing her, throwing her off—

Fingertips massaged his temples. A cool, slow pressure, easing his malaise, wisps of chakra delving into him, familiar, soothing. She leaned closer when his grip slackened. Silk-soft strands caressed his cheeks; lips and murmurs touched his ear.

“Sshh…sleep.” It was a command even if it wasn’t uttered as one.

Kakashi couldn’t bring himself to argue, didn’t feel like resisting any longer. A spark of awareness flashed in his mind before exhaustion overtook him. _Sakura…_

When Kakashi felt the stirrings of wakefulness again, it was different than the first time, less forced but all the same forceful. He couldn’t stay asleep…he couldn’t rest…not when another body was beside him. Close, _so close_. Hot skin and fabric rubbed against him, slinked with slow undulations. He couldn’t tell who of the two was causing it, but she had been there for a long time. Kakashi could even smell himself on her. Maybe the fault lay in his semi-asleep state, maybe in the fact that it had been a long time since he had tasted a woman’s desire—Kakashi didn’t know what it was but he didn’t care. She was there. She was warm. And he wanted her…whoever she was.

His arm coiled, flattened her against him, a cuff of muscle around her waist. A gasp echoed, soon drowned under a hiss, half-warning, half-pleasure. There was a feeble struggle, a subtle push, unsure, as if she fought between thrusting him away and holding him closer. That, too, soon stopped, dissolved into a shiver, inviting, luring.

Teeth dragged along the arc of her neck, lips moving over the juts of her collarbone. Low, and lower. The swells of her breasts were soft against his cheeks, sought the wetness of his tongue…and he gave in. Need soaked through the strips of clothing between them, his mask and her shirt, unwanted barriers but not enough to deter him, to make him stop. His mouth closed around the underside of a breast, nipped the sensitive skin. High, and higher. Languorous licks and bites, tongue stroking and teeth teasing a turgid nipple, rough but not too much.

The suction, the slickness, the heat of his mouth, spurred her into action. Her confusion went as quick as it came. Not even an iota of her prior stiffness lingered. Kakashi felt it in her softened flesh, her sweetened scent, the way her hand cupped the back of his head, how her fingers wove in his hair. She clung to him, drew him closer, gripped him tighter. Urgency brewed beneath taut skin, inflamed his blood, lapped at his muscles. Intrinsic spasms low in his abdomen, the smell of lust on her skin, thick and sultry and demanding. She spoke his name then, uncertain, dazed, as if she was saying it for the first time…and _she_ was.

“Kakashi…”

It was more whisper and less provocation, promiscuous, lethargic, full of illicit things, undertones Kakashi had never heard from a woman before. He realized she didn’t mean to arouse the senses, entrap his ears, only to draw his attention, yet she nonetheless did. He siphoned the sound, imbibed her temptation—but that voice… Not _that_ voice. _Sakura—_

Kakashi stilled. It took a few shallow breaths and moments to remove himself from her, fall on his back, eyes yet shut. It took even longer to connect reality with _that_ voice. He felt numb, paralyzed, as if he had swallowed venom, as if the futon’s fibers were clawing at his skin. The pungency of denial was heavy on his tongue, killed all remnants of her aftertaste; the word _mistake_ kept repeating itself in his mind, drilling holes into his skull. He was _too aware_ of her presence, of her raging pulse beside him. Sakura was a tangled mess on his bed, silent, watchful, waiting and waiting and waiting…for time to move, for him to _do_ _something_.

He inhaled harshly, broke the silence that stretched between them. “I warned you this was a bad idea.” But he never looked at her.

Kakashi never heard her reply—if Sakura even gave one. When sensation returned to his limbs, when his blood ceased roaring in his ears, where she had lain was empty and cold, screamed with implications and blame.

* * *

The moon hung heavy and high, more so in Sasuke’s eyes. He both hated and liked the full moon, its incandescence, and the memories it held within. Reminiscence was a cruel realm to dwell, but nothing remained besides that.

Kakashi would not come this night, Sasuke had seen proof of that, even though he would have preferred not to have that knowledge, but Naruto was another matter. His blond teammate stood tall beside him, his gaze focused on the same full moon, though Sasuke doubted Naruto saw the same things in it as he did.  

“What do you dream about, Sasuke?”

Sasuke didn’t deign the question with an answer. Naruto probably knew—he continued anyway.

“I dream about many things, things I know aren’t real. Sometimes, I don’t want to wake up.”

Neither the admission nor the yearning in Naruto’s voice surprised Sasuke. They all had their own demons, buried inside, unspoken burdens.

“Isn’t it funny? Because of our dreams, you don’t want to sleep and I wish I could sleep forever. But I’m glad that I wake up. I get to eat Sakura-chan’s horrible cooking and kick your ass in sparring and pester Kakashi-sensei to teach me genjutsu.”

“You are incapable of learning genjutsu. Stop harassing Kakashi into teaching you.”

Sasuke would have laughed if he didn’t think it would be unnecessarily callous. Naruto held no such reservations. His laughter was convivial and warm and everything Sasuke’s laughter would never be.

“You finally talk, huh?” Without waiting for a retort, Naruto drew his gaze away from the moon. His eyes bore down, too blue, almost depthless. “I never thought we’d end up having the same dream.”

It was an implicit connection, something they never talked about, but perhaps they should. Sasuke didn’t feel the urge to repeat his once-said statement after the war—like Naruto had done for most of his life—but that didn’t mean he had relinquished it.

“It’s not a dream for me. I just want to protect the things Itachi cared for.”

It surprised Naruto as much as Sasuke, that he shared even a fragment of his wants and thoughts.

Naruto was the one who recovered first, a smile on his lips, the blue of his eyes brighter than ever. “Your brother was a real hero, just like my dad and the Third.”

Sasuke’s chin dipped low, whether in agreement or avoidance, even he couldn’t tell, but he didn’t want to retain eye contact any longer. Perhaps Naruto knew better than even Sasuke himself because he changed the subject.

“Sakura-chan snuck into Kakashi-sensei’s room.”

It wasn’t an observation or a statement or a question but something else entirely. Sasuke gathered that Naruto forced himself to say the words, give the matter substance, make it real. If it had remained unsaid, then it would have become another secret—and secrets had destroyed their team once in the past.

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

Naruto’s reply was as natural as the rustling of leaves in Konoha, light yet heavy. “Because he needed it.”

 _Does it hurt?_ Sasuke would never voice the thought, but there was no such need either way. The answer was staring at him, unbidden, unblinking.

_Yeah…it fucking hurts…but we all live in pain anyway._

If there was one thing that Sasuke couldn’t stand about his teammate, besides Naruto’s need to validate his existence through him, it was his smiles, like the one he wore at this moment. Sasuke couldn’t understand how Naruto could smile through his pain, his joy, his everything. Still, he kept quiet, didn’t speak of things that would open Pandora’s box.

Crouched down, hands on his knees, Naruto motioned for him to rise, tilted his chin toward the inside of the house. “Come on. I’ll drink with you.”

Sasuke made no motion to stand, only watched as Naruto’s eyes lowered to the cylinder by his thigh.

Lips curled slightly, distaste and something else, close to mirth wrapped around ache, coated his features and his voice. “Sake is better than drugs, and looks like we both need it.”

There was no argument there, Sasuke was well aware, but… “Naruto—”

Sasuke’s voice carried a strain that Naruto could easily recognize for what it was, and Naruto just smiled that smile Sasuke could decipher all too well.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go back to being an idiot in the morning.”


	6. I've Burned My Hands, I'm in the Fire

The summer heat had never felt as torrid as it did today, but maybe the searing sensation on Kakashi’s skin was simply the heat of guilt. As he stood before the Hokage’s desk, for the first time since Tsunade had taken the Godaime’s seat, Kakashi had to force himself to look her in the eyes, to not flinch when he did.

Tsunade regarded him closely, thin brows almost sewn together in a frown, making this meeting more of an ordeal than it already was. “I can’t decide if you’re looking worse or better, Kakashi. Are you sleeping at least?”

“I’d rather not answer that question.”

If Tsunade noticed his stiffness at her question, his reluctance to answer, she didn’t show it, continued with a naturalness that Kakashi was most grateful for. Female intuition was a blessed thing in this case.

“I see you stopped giving me detailed reports.”

A manicured finger tapped rhythmically against the desk, the sole sign of her discontent. Kakashi shrugged.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I’m starting to think I made a mistake.”

Kakashi felt the insane urge to laugh at that. If only she knew, if only… “You’re not the only one.”

Tsunade nodded as if she _did_ know, but didn’t pursue the matter. Her next words were a pleasant surprise, one that Kakashi felt even more grateful for.

“I’ll give your team a mission to test the waters for now, but it’ll only be a high level B-Rank. I expect your team in an hour for briefing. _Don’t_ _be_ _late_.”

* * *

Naruto wore the largest grin Kakashi had seen from the blond shinobi in months as they all waited for Tsunade to elaborate on the details of their mission.

“About time you gave us a mission.”

His cheeky remark was expected, or more accurately, it would have been weird if he hadn’t said anything of the sort. Tsunade didn’t even bat an eyelash, but the slightest throb of a vein could be seen on her temple.

“Stop complaining or I’ll make it a D-Rank.”

“That’s unfai—”

It was Sakura who slapped a hand over Naruto’s mouth, though it was unnecessary. Naruto couldn’t refuse the mission when he heard what it was about.

“You are to deliver these scrolls to Suna. You don’t need to know their content, only that they’re important enough to require a transport team. You must hand them over to the Kazekage or his siblings without exception. I expect you back in a week granted no complications arise.”

“Understood.”

Kakashi gave her a curt nod, but Tsunade’s attention was reserved for Naruto, mirth aplenty in her eyes.

“What? No complaint, Naruto?”

The smile he graced her with was too sunny, albeit bashful. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Gaara.”

Tsunade chuckled softly. “I thought so. Dismissed.”

* * *

The journey to Suna had been uneventful in all manners and aspects. There had been neither assaults nor sandstorms to delay them, but no conversation either besides mundane, trivial things. It had been nerve-racking, more exhausting than if all those things had happened at once. When they finally reached the hidden village, were granted an audience with the Kazekage, and were led to his office, Kakashi felt as if he would keel over and pass out at any given minute. The rest of his team didn’t look much better. Except for Naruto. But Kakashi could bet the reason for that had more to do with excitement and less with stamina.

“Kazekage-sama.” As the team leader, Kakashi gave formal greeting, stepped forward, and completed their mission.

“Thank you for your hard work. You are welcome to recuperate here for a day if you so wish it. In any case, two rooms have been prepared for your use.”

The Kazekage was as stoic and young and redheaded as Kakashi remembered him to be, but he was courteous and sure-spoken and terse, qualities Kakashi appreciated. Hence, he inclined his head with a good measure of well-earned respect.

“We’ll take you up on your offer if you don’t mind then. Thank you for the consideration, Kazekage-sama.”

* * *

Nighttime had fallen much later than it would have in Konoha, the sun reigning over the Land of Wind. Grains of sand floated around, leaving gold-specked trails in their passing. Gaara stood at the edge of the Kazekage’s balcony, overlaying the village, giving him an unlimited view of its rounded structures and habitants. 

“It’s been a long time, Gaara.”

“Naruto.”

A waft of breeze billowed as Gaara spoke, rustled through tufts of crimson hair, softly pressed against Naruto’s back as if to beckon him closer. The blond shinobi hid a smile, took a few steps to come stand beside his friend, knowing Gaara too well to write it off as mere coincidence. 

“How have you been, Gaara?”

Gaara’s profile was the very essence of dispassion, but Naruto could detect traces of pleasure under layers of calm. “I…can sleep.”

A soft exhalation merged with the hush of the wind as Naruto took a few moments to digest what Gaara had said. When the implications sank into his mind, his grin could rival the dazzling sun of Suna. “I’m glad.”

“Naruto—” Something in Gaara’s low nuance, his charged pause, warned Naruto that the Kazekage wished to touch a delicate matter but refrained.

“Yeah?”

“Can _you_ sleep?” The silvery hue of Gaara’s eyes was too pale, filled with things that needn’t be spoken, when he tilted his head to gaze at him.

Naruto could tell what he was really asking, smiled despite the strain on his cheeks as he did so. “Yeah…I’m fine. You know me, I’ll never give up.”

“Sasuke’s eyes have changed…” Another pause, heavy… _concerned_. “But so have yours.”

It brought a tight, warm feeling low in his belly. Naruto slung one arm around Gaara’s shoulders. “Mm. We keep living, yeah? We’ve got people now, you and me.” _So don’t worry, I’ll be fine._

“Yes.” An upturn of thin lips, so faint that Naruto almost missed it.

“Did you just… _smile_?” Naruto grinned, kept grinning even when he got a faceful of hot-gritty sand.

* * *

Kakashi sat on the bed by the window, watched as Sakura mimicked him and seated herself on the other bed. For three days during their trip to Suna, no words were spoken between them, none exchanged. The dark luster of her eyes as she stared at him, impassive, detached, did nothing to assuage the tightness in his chest, to deny the presage of things to come. Sakura didn’t want to talk. The edge in her eyes, her body posture, told him as much. No. She wanted something far, far worse, something Kakashi wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —give her.

“This is a mistake, Sakura.”

The jade of her eyes liquefied upon hearing this, even as her mouth curled in semblance of a smile. It was too sharp to be called a smile, whispered another kind of heat, less anger, more voracity. Kakashi could tell she knew all too well what he really meant. _What happened the other night was a mistake._

“I can decide that for myself, Kakashi.”

A sigh threatened to spill forth at her stubborn nature, but Kakashi held it back. “Why are you doing this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” That mockery of a smile turned into a feral grin.

Kakashi did sigh then. Many thoughts passed through his mind, many questions. Forbidden, warped. _No, it’s not. Nothing makes sense anymore. What do you want from me?_ Kakashi kept all of them to himself, didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she was rattling him more. It was dangerous, far too easy to slip. One wrong step, one careless movement—all it would take.

 “Just sleep, Kakashi.”

Kakashi recalled her giving him the same sentence three nights ago, but he doubted the words held the same meaning as then.

* * *

Kakashi wasn’t asleep when he felt her shuffle in the dark, rise from her bed, come over to his side with sure, slow steps. But they both knew that.

“I’m not having a bad dream, Sakura.” It was redundant, but Kakashi felt the innate need to say it, if only for the mere sake of it.

Sakura chuckled, the sound seeping into his senses, more tempting than it should be. “Maybe I am…”

 _Liar._ Kakashi didn’t bother uttering this truth though.

The bed dipped, yielded under her knees. She took his silence for what it was, straddled him, covered him in warmth and naked flesh. There was a moment of hesitation on her part, but Kakashi knew she was hard-set in her task, too flagrant in her desire. The fact that she had placed herself on top of him, wearing nothing but skin and promises of moisture, spoke for itself. And he was right. Quick as a viper, she struck. Her palms captured his wrists, placed his hands on her shoulders; she made them move with deliberate laziness, forced their centers to glide over the dips of her body. Lower and lower. Sakura coaxed him with her eyes and hands, flayed his resistance and composure. Little by little. When she enclosed her breasts in their twined hands, squeezed, first lightly then hard, Kakashi’s control snapped.

“Sakura…” It was supposed to be a warning but it came out strained, too rough. A half-smirk spread across her lips, tempted the rising flame into an inferno. Kakashi couldn’t deny the attraction of the woman, the lure of her boldness. But he had enough of being played around.

Fingers splayed, circled her flesh as it swelled, trapped it in the confines of his grip, thumbs flicking her nipples. Her neck craned back. She licked her lips, slid her pelvis against him. Muscles strained, violent spasms under her slickness. Her skin burned hot against him, hotter the more she teased him. Sakura pressed the swell of her buttocks against the clothed erection that met the twists of her hips. Her arms guided Kakashi’s hands over the softness of her abdomen, the juts of her hipbones, and lower still. She made him graze the flushed skin, rub the wet heat, taste the pulse of desire.

She was as hard as he, but soft within, more than woman, more than wetness. _Take me_ , her body clamored as her nails raked his forearms. And Kakashi did.

He toppled her over in a swift, fast motion. Hands moved over the backs of her knees, teased the sensitized skin. His eyes caught hers, passed her a message, black and red daring. _Watch me_ , and she did.

Sakura couldn’t escape the snare of his gaze, the intensity of it all. She could only feel—the roughness of his hands as they snaked upward, reached between her thighs, pressing there, stroking, again and again, in a steady, maddening rhythm that had her gasping. She writhed, undulated, whispered her desire in throaty moans, needful gasps. Nothing but the soft hiss of lust against flesh…and his fingers against want, inside throbbing heat, twisting and rubbing against all her sweet spots, places she never knew existed. Teeth scraped across the line of her hipbone, the tip of his tongue smearing wetness upon her skin, fire in the flesh and molten blood.

Her legs trembled, parted, invited him in—and still she watched. The flat of his tongue slithered against raw nerves and tissue, lick upon lick, sinuous and lavish and dragging. Kakashi sucked the nectar off her skin, made her moan, thrash, forsake herself. She strained, twisting wildly. Her back arched even as her hips burrowed into the mattress, all thought and speech eluding her. Blood-heat in her veins, lust melted in pure sensation. She sank back, boneless, felt his tongue lick, devour the remnants of her release. He drank her in, every drop of her spent desire.

When Kakashi spoke, the slow utterance he used, the guttural aggression in his voice nearly brought her over once more. His voice cooled her feverish flesh as he dragged the words over the source of her heat.

“Are you satisfied now?”

It wasn’t a question. The answer lay in the seam of her thighs, slathered on the curve of his lips. Sakura was well aware of what he implied, what he told her with his eyes.

_This will never happen again._


	7. Take Your Leisure, Take Whatever You Can

Kakashi had never liked such places, rarely visited them, much less in Suna. Dimly-lit, mantled in anonymity, lethe disguised as sweetened liquor, and the taste of honeyed woman on his tongue.

An hour and two jugs of sake. Perhaps less than an hour and more than two jugs of sake. And yet…her scent _still_ lingered, remnants of unforgotten pleasure. Warm, perspiring. He downed another cup of sake, uncaring of other patrons, his abused liver, his soggy mask, Sasuke taking a seat next to him.

“You should be resting. We have a long trip back home come morning.” Kakashi couldn’t miss the irony in his own words. If anyone should follow that advice, it would be him.

Sasuke didn’t much care for it either, but he did care for the drink Kakashi slid toward him. “I can smell her on you.”

A bark of laughter touched the rim of his cup. Kakashi washed it down with a generous gulp. “I’d be surprised if you couldn’t. Naruto knows?”

There wasn’t a sliver of doubt that Naruto was aware. What Kakashi asked was something else.

Sasuke shrugged, gave Kakashi the answer he sought without asinine blather. “Knowing something and having it slapped in your face are two different things.”

Naruto’s notable absence made perfect sense now, not that Kakashi didn’t already have an inkling. “What about you then?”

If there was one thing Kakashi appreciated about Sasuke, his most redeeming quality, it was his inherent ability to answer questions that weren’t asked. Sasuke was always cogent of the fine-plaited meaning in Kakashi’s words, and responded accordingly, if at all. Regardless of his predisposition to silence, Sasuke knew when to speak and when not.

“I’m not going to become your excuse if that’s what you’re asking.” Insipid, slightly caustic, strewn with grains of amusement—a very Sasuke-esque assertion.

Kakashi laughed, patted the Uchiha’s back once.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Sasuke had really hit the nail. Kakashi had wondered the same thing for every goddamn minute of every goddamn day since the first time he had touched Sakura.

“Stay the hell away from her.”

Something between a snort and a chuckle came from Sasuke’s side.

“Sasuke.” It was the first time since the Uchiha had sat next to him that Kakashi sought his eyes. “What would you do?”

Sasuke’s gaze darkened; his voice sharpened. “Give her what she wants.”

It wasn’t what Kakashi would have expected to hear…or what he would have liked. “She is _not just_ _a_ _woman_.”

Sasuke was the one who laughed this time. “Only you don’t want to see her that way.”

* * *

The journey back to Konoha was identical in vibes and atmosphere to the one toward Suna. Kakashi had dragged his depleted body to the Hokage’s tower to deliver his report without even sparing a thought to form an excuse and delay it. There was no point…to everything.

“Good work, Kakashi.”

Tsunade wore a mantle of delectation. It clashed with Kakashi’s dejection in the most striking of ways.

“Did we pass the test then?”

A hum of approval caressed his ears, and he sighed in relief. It was something at least.

“I’ll start giving you regular missions once the month ends. You only have another week of living together left. Make some good memories while you still have this chance, you know…bonding and such.”

Tsunade waved a hand with much fanfare, outright flaunting Kakashi’s less than excited grunt.

“I think we’ve bonded enough as it is.” _Perhaps…too much._

“Scratching an itch under the sheets is hardly bonding, Kakashi.”

Such casualness her voice bled, as if Tsunade was remarking on the weather, that it took a few moments and some measure of contemplation for her words to register in Kakashi’s mind. Bewilderment didn’t even begin to describe what he felt when cognition settled in his mind. “Pardon?”

The stare she gave him was too wry, if a bit condescending. “You really think she wouldn’t tell me? I recommended her as your counselor, but who do you think _she_ talks to when she needs advice or is troubled?”

When put like that, it did make sense, but Kakashi had been preoccupied with other, more pressing matters to make the connection at the time. Tsunade continued, unperturbed by whatever she saw reflected in his eyes.

“You’re both consenting adults. Whatever the hell you have going on is between you. Just keep in mind one thing.” Her fraught pause was foreboding. Her eyes hardened like nuggets of gold, bound him in lustrous shackles. “Whatever you want, be a man about it.”

* * *

Sakura’s footsteps on the tatami floor were soft and yet…anything _but_ soft. Kakashi had expected her to sneak into his room this night, had steeled himself for the floral aroma that wafted into his nostrils, the exposure of creamy skin that tempted his eyes. Her strained features, the lines of reluctance in the curve of her mouth though, was another matter.

“I just want to talk.”

No smile, no laughter. This lack of reaction, this listlessness, coming from her, rankled for some reason, elicited a bite of Kakashi’s anger.

“Kinda late for that, isn’t it?”

Sakura stared at him, still expressionless. “So you’d rather ignore each other…”

Her lips twitched when he claimed silence, her eyes narrow, faint signs of a storm brewing beneath smooth skin. It pleased Kakashi, that she was as much affected as he was by this mess dangling in their laps.

“Or have sex?”

Kakashi had underestimated her. She wasn’t merely bold. Sakura took boldness to new, impossible heights, when she wanted something—and Kakashi’s patience had been worn too thin. He cursed it all, cursed her, cursed himself.

“Damn it, Sakura…”

She remained unfazed through his outburst, didn’t flinch when he slammed his fist against the wall, when bones cracked with an ugly sound, when his eyes seethed black and red fury. All against her, all her fault. Why did she have to stand there and offer herself and speak of things that should have never happened? The woman was mad—and Kakashi… _more_ mad than Sakura for not throwing her out and purging her taste from his tongue and cauterizing his nose to erase her scent.

“It’s rather simple, Kakashi. You either want me or you don’t, but you’ll never learn the answer if you keep pushing me away.”

Kakashi was stunned speechless—not because she had spewed such complicated things with an ease that made him want to strangle her, but because she had said all that and…turned to leave. Simple. _Simple_. That word was an anathema. It was ringing and screeching and howling in his ears. He never realized when he lunged toward her, plastered her against the wall, suffocated her with his rage. Only when her scent assaulted him, speared through him, like lances aflame, did he come to his senses. Out of breath, damn near shaking, his forehead descended, rested on the crook of her neck.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” _Only that I want you._

Crude, rough, his voice soaked through her, sparked an electric current, spread from her neck to her nipples down to her toes. The heat of his breath was a ring of fire around her neck. It upsurged the heatwaves in her blood, made her heart palpitate like a fast-pounded drum. Shivers lathered on her skin; tingles rushed through her body. His smell was intoxicating, was making her lightheaded at such close proximity. A slide of skin, a coalescence of breaths, a calefaction of need. There was only one thing left to say, and one to imply.

“That’s okay, I won’t ask for more…” _For now._ Words unspoken but skin-felt—and a peal of jade silence.

His throat constricted, yet no sound came, only soft hands on his cheeks, the taste of cherries on his tongue. A kiss but not a kiss, so much more than merely that. Her arms wound around his shoulders, pulled him closer, until no inch of skin was left untouched, no breath of air between them. Teeth and lips and the coil of tongues, a susurrus of infatuation and implications. Her breasts swelled against his torso. Her hips gyrated in slow, sensual motions, taming his urgency, clamoring for more…of his taste, his scent, his touch, of everything.

Rough hands carved a languid path across her legs, a slow burn, from her knees to her hips, back and forth, igniting her nerve endings, teasing too much. A huff spilled in his mouth, tangled with his tongue. Kakashi chuckled, stroked her thighs, higher and higher, grasped her buttocks, and ground against her.

“Kakashi…mnn…that feels so good…”

Sakura arched against him, purred like a shameless feline, undulated and slinked and rubbed herself all over him. She whispered how much she wanted him, cursed their clothes, clawed at his shirt with manic moves. It provoked the baser side within Kakashi, aroused him like no woman before—her wildness, her unbridled passion.

Fabric ripped, shredded to pieces, strewn in careless piles on the floor. Skin on skin, hot, seething hotter. Sakura burned, dragged him into the fires of no return. He clasped the curve of her buttocks, relished the dipping of flesh, drew her up against the wall, his nails leaving angry marks, possessive, and Sakura—she trapped him in raw lust, in the litheness of her body, thighs and knees and ankles. She kissed him harder, bit into his lips, chiseled Kakashi’s restraint. She was firewater, sidling on his tongue, searing his throat, swallowing, deepening with each thrust and moan.

Then he felt them, hands on his neck, on his chest, stroking, kindling the coals of desire, wrenching a growl out of his throat. Lissome limbs disentangled slowly. Protests formed on his lips, only to die away, morph into rasp-ridden grunts—teeth nibbling on strips of skin, on hard nipples, fingers and tongue dragging, laving his navel, lower and lower. Perspiration on lean sinew, droplets clinging to crevices and bones, clenching, abdominal muscles, hollowed with each shallow breath, below Kakashi’s pubic bone—she lingered there, tasted the throb of desire, slick, gleaming heat. Kakashi felt his control slip, groaned, the register too low, eyes closed, fingers laced in her hair, drowning in sensations—teeth dragging, biting, not too deep, not too soft, just the way he liked it, teasing and sucking, nails grazing his hipbones, tongue lapping at the underside of his erection.

“Sakura…” A rumble rippled through his body, vibrated in his throat, venereal, full of animal urges.

The sound beguiled her ears. Sakura raised her eyes to partake in his revelry, viridian flames, the shade of heathen impulses and lust. The more Kakashi held her eyes, the more potent her scent became, congealed with her essence. Wet, and growing wetter, the fragrance of her lust, in slow sips, he drank. Pleasure dwelled in his blood, swelled low in his abdomen, amassed into unspoken cravings. Oversaturation and sinuous tongue, snaking around him, glissading in languorous strokes, up and down, round and round, a fusion of coolness and warmth. Then faster, deeper, until Kakashi had to grab a fistful of Sakura’s locks to make her stop.

She chuckled, half-sated, half-petulant, released him with one last tongue flick, one last leisure pump. Her back was slammed against the wall, trapped between the seam of skin and the scent of man, delicious friction, hipbones clashing, legs curling around him. He moved against her, slid between sensitized flesh and soaking need, teased and tempted, once, twice—

“Kakashi…please… _now…_ ”

A hard, fast thrust of his hips—all that it took, all that she needed, and he plunged inside, filled her with more than she asked, less than he wanted. Sakura could feel it as she writhed under his assault, could tell that Kakashi held back, in the tightening of muscles, the stretching of skin, all of him, seething with restriction. Neck strained, back rubbed raw, breasts aching, her hips bore the violence of his thrust, slick, burning. Vocal cords abused, her body whispered and pleaded for more, urged him to break and be broken, with spasms and moans.

Sakura murmured his name with lust-kissed lips— _Kakashi…please…move_ … Slowly, insidiously, Kakashi sank into her, tasted the moisture of her walls, challenged their flexibility. Deeper. Tighter. Harder. Her hips struggled in his grip, muscles clenching inside.

Fingertips traced the contours of his back, nails scraping with thin welts, grazing over his buttocks, demanding he give her more, everything. So tight and wet and warm, Sakura arched against him, stifled a sound, half-hiss, half-moan. Satisfaction and heat, smoldering, raspy moans and murmurs. Teeth clamped down on the lobe of his ear, blunt but sharp, then tongue licking, soothing the abused flesh, nipples rubbing against his chest, hard and swollen and reddened. A twist of hips, deep-angled, tight-clasped, he gave what she wanted.

Fingers, slender, dexterous, snaked between them, coiled around his erection, as he surged and withdrew—and he growled. Sakura was close, Kakashi could feel it, and it was making him wild, less focused. Muscles gripping, convulsions and spasms, he urged, goaded as he rammed harder into her, and when they came, Kakashi reveled in their entrapment, the tightness of her flesh, her gasps, full of _please_ and _more_ and _now_.


	8. Love on an Atom

The last week passed in one slow breath—languorous strokes of time, deeds unspoken, fragile. Kakashi could feel the change, slithering in quiet corners, dwelling in moans and drenched sheets. It was a vortex of desires, devoid of thought, devoured by sensation, but perhaps that was what all of them needed. Slowly, intrinsically, the split pieces melded together, forged into hard metal, still raw and heated, barely starting to cool down. Emotions pulsed in the dark, skin-felt, sliding on the tip of tongue and lips, yet never spilling past them. To ravish and be ravished, chisel the rough layers, peel them off one by one, until only the fleshy parts remained, tender and vulnerable.

Kakashi wasn’t the only one forced to strip down to the bones, he was well aware. He merely was the first to take the fall before he realized it, to struggle through it with fangs and claws until the very end. Sasuke accepted his much more gracefully, but maybe that was simply the difference in their nature, in their way of living life. Whatever it was, Kakashi envied Sasuke, if only for the smoothness of his transition. It allowed Sasuke to retain an iota of pride, despite pride being nothing more than a useless tether, a heart’s restriction.

* * *

The night was warm, swelling with summer winds, pretty, fluttering things. Kakashi gazed at the gleam of night, streaked with shades of blue, transient lights, made immortal by human perception. Sasuke’s presence was the sole thing cool, familiar yet foreign in some ways. It was part of the _change_ , of the sweeping tide, less devastating now, ebbing slowly.

“It all ends tonight.” Sasuke’s voice fell heavy on the zesty wafts, low tones and a touch of finality. It was a fact, indisputable but deceptive.

Kakashi’s throat vibrated, raspy sensation, titillating, and before he realized it, he was chuckling. “Is that how you see it?”

There was no need to vocalize the flaw in Sasuke’s statement, but the urge to humor him gnawed at Kakashi with tiny, jagged teeth. In reality, Kakashi was also subject to the same ailment, needed to hear it, even by his own lips. Perhaps that was all there was to it, perhaps there was more than simply that.

Sasuke’s lips quirked into something less than a smile, more wryness, almost self-mocking, gave the answer eluding Kakashi. “Does it matter?”

Indeed. Sasuke couldn’t have been more right. Neither he nor Kakashi held the reins, the option to choose whether something began or ended. Naruto and Sakura were far better suited for this kind of thing, shone brighter, lived in the light. Kakashi and Sasuke were merely casting shadows.

“I guess not.” He chuckled again, shook his head.

“Kakashi.” A rough sound threaded itself in Sasuke’s voice, a rumble of a chuckle, more strained than Kakashi’s, as if he was not quite used to it yet. The black of his eyes liquesced, rimmed with blood-red. “I’m used to living alone.”

In one sentence, Sasuke had managed to summarize that wretched flaw perfectly—but it was too late, far too late to rectify it, they both knew—and perhaps that was fortunate.

A smirk curled Kakashi’s lips, a dichotomy of an expression, his feelings, half-irony, half-gratitude. “So am I…but we’re not alone, are we?”

* * *

Naruto lay beside Sasuke on the rooftop, eyes closed, lulled by the night’s heartbeat. “I’m not leaving.”

His proclamation was met with silence, but he never expected otherwise.

“You know, I don’t like silence, but I can see why you like it.” A smile bloomed on his lips, a mellow curve. He siphoned all memories inhabiting this place, stitched on every surface, woven into the air, steeped into the ground. “When it’s quiet like this, I can almost hear them.”

Humans always left an imprint on this world—of smiles and tears, blood and sweat. Naruto might not have shared the connection Sasuke did with this place, but he could still feel the ripples of the past, flowing and coiling around him with each moment he spent here.

“So tell me, what was it like before?”

Even though Naruto didn’t raise his lids, remained languid save for the motions of his mouth, he could hear the rasp of a smile in Sasuke’s voice when he finally spoke.

“Loud, like you.”

* * *

Sakura stirred lightly when another body settled behind her, soundless but welcome. _Kakashi_. Lean muscle against her back, arms drawing her close into a tight cocoon, warm skin and the scent of man. Her neck arched back, seeking that smell, that warmth, lips sliding along the underside of his neck, murmurs and a lick of amusement.

“Can’t sleep?”

Teeth dragged on the curve of her ear, teased the sensitive flesh, tongue licking the bite marks, hunger in his voice.

“Later.”

* * *

Tsunade’s eyes scanned Kakashi’s last report, the skin around them embellished with faint lines, more confusion than age. She read it again, and again, then she tossed the scroll across her desk and burst out in a bark of laughter. “Those brats…”

Shizune peered at her master with curiosity. “Is something wrong, Tsunade-sama?”

“Well, the good news is that the Uchiha district is open to the public again. Anyone who wants to relocate there is free to do so. Sasuke has agreed to make that place a part of the village again. Make the announcement.”

A small smile graced Shizune’s lips, and she nodded, sharing Tsunade’s contentment, but something told her there was more to it. “And the bad news?”

The smirk that spread across Tsunade’s mouth was sharp, impishly dry. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing any Uchiha or Uzumaki heirs…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN


End file.
